


Playing Unfair

by Ships_ahoy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, NSFW, contains violence, troll uu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-28
Updated: 2012-06-28
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:51:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ships_ahoy/pseuds/Ships_ahoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(NOTE: This was written before the reveal of uu/UU as being cherubs and therefore follows the headcanon of uu being a troll. Figured I might as well post it anyways.)</p>
<p>When Dirk Strider wakes bound to a chair in a strange room, he finds himself stuck in the middle of a deadly game that could cost him his life. But he has a few tricks up his sleeve, and he knows exactly how to manipulate his opponent to allow him to win...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Playing Unfair

**Author's Note:**

> I followed the headcanon of uu being a troll whilst writing this, and part of me wants to rewrite it now that we know what he looks like. But then part of me is really lazy so meh.

It starts out as just a faint hum in the distance, gradually growing louder as you recognise the noise to be words, a voice speaking to you and pulling you up from the blackness you had found yourself immersed in.

_“Dirk.”_

You crack one of your eyes open, bright light blinding you for a second as you become vaguely aware of a dull pounding in your head. Confusion and dizziness washes over you as you tip your head upwards, fully opening your eyes and allowing them to adjust before you get your bearings.

The source of the voice was nowhere to be seen, in fact, the whole room was hidden in darkness besides the bright white spotlight beam that shone down on you from above. You give a slightly pained expression at the shooting pain in your head, attempting to move a hand up to it only to find that you couldn’t. Your hands were tied together, bound tightly behind the back of the chair you sat on, sending a wave of panic washing over you before you swallow it down, feeling it settle in the pit of your stomach. Now was not the time to panic.

A quick inspection confirms that your ankles are also tied to the chair legs, and a quick wriggle tells you that they are tied pretty tight. Well, at least tight enough for you to have no hope in breaking free of them any time soon.

Your mind races, desperately trying to figure out what had happened for you get in this situation. But your thoughts are still fuzzy, muddled by the pain and fear you were desperately trying to keep control of. Striders weren’t designed to be restricted in this way and it seemed like your whole body was trying to fight off the panic of the unsettling position you had found yourself in.

“Dirk. Finally awake, I see.”

Your head snaps in the direction of the voice, eyes straining to see. But it’s frustratingly difficult when you are wearing shades in a room that was already dark. You move to say something but your mouth is almost painfully dry and you swallow, wrists jerking against the back of the chair in an attempt to break free.

“Don’t bother trying to break free. I have you tied up tight enough that, even with your strength, the bindings won’t break,” The voice says, sounding low and slightly scratchy with just a tiny hint of detectable amusement in its tone, “How is your head? I hit it pretty fucking hard.”

And suddenly you remember, mouth pulling into a frown as you recall that you had been entering the game, everything had seemed to be going to plan. You had thought that you would have been transported to whatever weird ass land the game had in store for you. Except you hadn’t. And you had found yourself in a dark room, lit only by the flickering light of a computer screen before you had felt a hard blow to the head and then nothing but blackness.

Wherever you were, it wasn’t where you were supposed to be.

“Who are you? And how do you know my name?” You ask, finally finding your voice as your gaze flickers around the room. Searching for anything you could use to your advantage. Anything at all.

A harsh sounding laugh rips through the air and your attention snaps back to the dark spot directly in front of you where the sound had originated from.

“I want to play a game, Dirk.”

You freeze, blood running cold as realization hits you like a ton of bricks all at once. You let out the breath you had been holding, inwardly cursing the fact that it was shaky. Because it couldn’t be? Surely you hadn’t found yourself helplessly strapped to a chair in a room with one of the creepiest fucking bastards you had ever had the pleasure of communicating with. But then again, who else could it be?

You lean forward in your seat slightly, a smirk pulling at your lips as you hope it’s enough to hide the fact that you currently feeling like a rabbit caught in a trap. Probably exactly how he intends you to feel.

“Ah, so we finally meet face to face, uu. But don’t you know that it’s rude to strap your friends to chairs and hide in the dark the first time you meet them in person?”

“What is rude is the fact that you insinuate we are friends when the idea is positively sickening,” He is quick to snap back, “I don’t have friends. And if I did they wouldn’t be annoying little fuckers like you Strider… No. I just want to play a game.”

You raise your eyebrows behind your shades, face taking on a look of indifference as you lean back into the seat, assuming an almost relaxed position. You tilt your head to the side, making it perfectly clear that you aren’t even bothering to look his way anymore.

“Maybe I don’t want to play your game. I’m actually pretty busy looking at this fascinating black wall at the moment. Can’t it wait?” You shrug your shoulders slightly and have to stop yourself from smiling at the small hiss of frustration that comes from the opposite end of the room.

“The game is not a choice you fucktard. If you refuse to play then you will die. Although the irony of it is that if you accept to play the outcome will be no different.”

“Then what’s the point of the game? I’m sorry man, but that just sounds like the most pointless waste of fucking time I ever heard. I mean, if your plan is to kill me then why don’t you just do it? You don’t have to make up some dumbass game to get the job done.” You flash him a look that shows him exactly how fucking stupid you find the whole situation and you can tell he catches it because he inhales sharply.

“That’s not the fucking point.”

“Oh, so there is a point to all this? Please, do enlighten me.”

“Shut up. Just, shut your fucking mouth you filthy human. The game is designed to give you a slim chance of escape. But it’s not something I’m going to hand to you on a silver platter all simple and easy.”

Your attention has snapped back to him, although you are careful to keep your expression calm, tilting your head back in his direction slowly. Your heart is pounding hard against your chest and you can feel your ankles push forward against the bindings as though in anticipation of escape.

“And tell me, what do I have to do in order to win this game of yours?” You ask, voice low and deadly serious.

“You have to fight me, Dirk Strider. You have to fight me and win.”

The suggestion has you pushing out a laugh as soon as it was said, your head tipping forward as your shoulder’s shake in amusement. He wanted you to fight him? Well _bring it on._

Your laughing has only managed to piss him off more and you can just tell that the next few seconds of silence were spent with him steaming in his own fury as he came up with a reply. The whole interaction was nothing short of hilarious to you, and although you knew that you were yet to see him, something told you that the scratchy voice in the dark didn’t belong to a ton of muscle and brute force. In other words, you knew that beating his ass wasn’t going to be all that much of a problem.

“Stop laughing.” He says and it sounds almost childish, as though his feelings had been hurt, “Stop right this fucking instant Strider. You have spent your whole life working to make yourself seem strong and worthy to win any fight you throw yourself into. I want to prove you wrong.”

You let your laughter fade away, glancing up in his direction, “Ok then… I’ll play your dumbass game. I’ll fight you, whatever…”

“Good.”

There was a moment of silence before the room was suddenly illuminated as the lights were switched on, causing you to squint slightly at the brightness before you glance around.

The room was the same room you had first appeared in, the abandoned computer, now switched off, sitting on a desk in the corner, and little else in the small box-like room besides the spotlight he had set up hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes finally fall on your captor, widening behind your shades at the skinny troll stood ahead of you.

He wore a dark green fitted suit, topped off with a bright red bow tie that had you smirking a little before you looked upwards. You observed the mess of black hair from which two long spiral horns protruded, orange and yellow and not unlike candy corn you couldn’t help but notice. He’s sending you a fierce glare with narrowed yellow eyes, your distance allowing you to notice just a hint of red in the irises, matching the bright red spirals which adorned his cheeks and contrasted against the light grey of his skin.

You smirk at him, raising your eyebrows mockingly, “Wow, I didn’t expect a murderous alien troll to look quite so…” You trail off, face contorting as you search for the right word.

“What?! Quite so what?” He snarls at you, revealing a set of sharp pointed teeth before he frowns at you.

“Dorky.”

“Right. That’s it. You’re fucking dead Strider.” He says, his hands curling up into fists by his side as he rushes towards you, giving you only enough time to brace yourself as one of his fists collides roughly with your chest. He hits you with enough force to send your chair tipping backwards, and, being unable to restore your balance, you fall back onto the floor heavily, letting out a hiss of pain as your shoulder blade jars against the impact.

“Ha! Who’s dorky now you smartass?” He retorts down at you and you tilt your spinning head back up to look at him.

“Tipping me onto the floor doesn’t make me look dorky, you stupid fucker. I’m not the one dressed like some homage to Saw on acid.” You reply through gritted teeth, savouring the flicker of confusion that flashes across his face at the reference he doesn’t understand. You tip your head back again in disbelief, a small groan of a laugh mixed with pain from your shoulder escaping your mouth.

“You make little sense human. Are you going to fight me now or not?” He sends you a scowl before walking around you to hook his fingers beneath your chair and lift it back up to a sitting position. You raise your eyebrows, noting that for someone so skinny, he was deceptively strong, lifting the chair and your body weight with ease.

“Yes, I’ll fucking fight you. Just let me out of these god damn things.” You shake your wrists, trying not to wince as the motion sends a sharp jolt of pain up your arm to your shoulder.

“Very well. But my conditions are that you are not allowed a weapon, understand?” He comes back round to face you and you let out a small sigh, nodding to show you understand. He returns your nod with a toothy grin, spinning on his heel to head over to his computer, grasping at what you realize is your katana and hadn’t noticed before.

“Hey, that’s mi-“

“ _I_ , on the other hand, will be using this.” He interrupts you, eyes flickering up to meet your gaze as he pulls the blade from its sheath slowly, holding it up in the light to admire the shine it gave off. You push your lips into a grim line, a small flare of possessiveness lighting up in your chest as you see his claw like fingernails run along the top of the blade.

He’s grinning at you in a such a mocking way that you are actually _glad_ he wants to fight you, if not just so you can knock that shit eating grin straight off his stupid alien face.

“Come on then.” You say, voice low and edgy with the challenge you know he wanted to hear.

He approaches you slowly, crouching down by the foot of the chair to slip your sword between your ankle and the binding, breaking it in one clean sweep before moving to the other. You resist the urge to kick him in the face once your feet are released, knowing that he was unlikely to untie your hands if you pulled a stunt like that, no matter how much you wanted it.

As he moves around the back of you to break the bindings around your wrists, you let out a small sigh of relief, hopping out of the chair. You can feel your confidence boost a little now that you weren’t constrained, your blood pumping in your ears in anticipation for the fight.

You turn, ready to face him, only to come face to face with the blade of your katana being swung in your direction, leaving you only enough time to duck before it whizzes over your head. _Fuck_ , he wasn’t fighting fair.

Actually, now that you looked it over, your shoulder was injured, head still slightly fuzzy from the blow earlier and your limbs were stiff from having being strapped to a chair for god knows how long. And there was also the fact that he was wielding a huge ass blade when you didn’t have a single weapon on you. This fight was anything from fair. In fact, there was that niggling thought in the back of your mind that this time you might just _lose._

You push yourself to the side, darting out of his way as you see him aim another swing, his face set and determined as he seeks you out. You know you can’t take any serious blows and that this fight would have to mostly consist of you being on defence the whole time, but it still sent that rush of adrenaline coursing through you like any fight did. As dangerous and deadly as this was, it was also _exciting._

“You can’t dodge me forever.” He says, dark eyebrows furrowing over excited eyes and his lips quirking downwards into a frown to match your own.

“I know.” You say, and your voice is low and steady, desperate to show that your words were a warning and not a sign of defeat. Because you weren’t going to let him kill you. No chance in hell.

You see him approach again and this time when you dodge, you are quick to stay close, reaching out as he swings his arm down. Your hand grabs at his wrist, twisting it as harshly as you can so that he lets out a cry of pain, the handle of the sword slipping from his grasp to clatter to the floor.

“Fuck!” He shouts and you quickly swing your other hand around to land a fist in his gut so that he curls over into the blow, eyes widening before they narrow in anger. There was a sound you could only describe as a growl at the back of his throat before he had twisted himself around, yanking his wrist from your grasp before his leg kicked out at your ankles.

You hadn’t been expecting his speed, feeling your ankles give out beneath his kick as you topple to the floor. You land on your injured shoulder and for a moment you see white from the pain, eyes squeezing shut tightly as you inhale sharply.

It’s mere seconds before he’s on top of you, tipping you onto your back before he sits on your chest, pinning you to the floor as you move to quickly remove him. Your hands fling up to grab at him, managing to grasp one of his horns before you realize that he had managed to retrieve the katana, swinging it up to hold by your neck. You freeze, swallowing as you feel the edge of the cool blade come in contact with your skin.

“That’s it, Strider… now let me go.” He says and you notice the slightly uncomfortable look on his face, disappearing as you obediently remove your grip on his horn. Well, that was _interesting._

“You fight unfair.” You say and he sends you a smirk, leaning back away from you but keeping the blade pushed up against your neck, making sure you couldn’t pull any dangerous moves against him.

“There was nothing in the rules of the game about fighting _fair_ , you stupid fuck.” He growls, smirk dropping from his lips as he pauses for a moment in thought. You are about to reply with _exactly_ what you thought about his fucking rules when he moved the sword away from your neck, stopping your words in their tracks.

“I want…” He begins, voice slightly distant before he pushes his mouth closed, instead adjusting the position of the blade so that it was over your face. He quickly dips it down, carefully pushing along one of your cheeks hard enough to break the skin.

You push your head away, cheek stinging where he had cut you and causing you to reach up and grab his wrist to push his arm away. But his other arm was already reaching down, fingers pushing against the cut which had started to bleed so that your blood collected on his fingers.

“Ah… yes. _Fascinating._ You are just like me.” He says, pulling his fingers back up to observe the dark red blood staining them more closely.

He’s momentarily distracted, the blade no longer up against your neck, which allows you the chance you need to regain control. And you take it, releasing his wrist and instead leaning up to grab his horns in both hands tightly.

“Let’s see some proof.”

He lets out a cry, but you are already yanking his head downwards to come into contact with your forehead roughly. You feel his nose take most of the impact and, when you fall back again, it’s only a second before the proof is spilling from his nostrils in a bright red stream.

Horror fills his face, one hand reaching up to cover his nose as the one holding the blade pulls back quickly, ready to strike. He brings the blade down, an angry roar pushing past his lips as he aims straight for your face, this time with the intention to kill.

Your reflexes kick in, one hand releasing his horn to grab his arm, stopping it in his tracks as he pushes strongly against you. His free hand reaches up from his nose to pull your other hand from his horn, face flinching in that uncomfortable way again before it’s returned to its furious expression. He puts all his strength into pushing his arm down, blade coming slowly closer as you feel your own strength start to waver. It was time for a new tactic.

You quickly bring your other hand to join the one pushing him back, shifting to the side so that you manage to shove his arm to the side and downwards, wrist hitting the ground and causing him to release the katana.

He’s beyond pissed now, spitting obscenities at you as you tip your body in the other direction, overpowering him as you roll so that he is beneath you now and not the other way around. You wince as the action agitates your shoulder, but the expression only brings you more pain through the cut in your cheek, still fresh as blood runs down the freckled white skin to drip from your chin.

You straddle his hips, feeling his legs kick out behind you as he instantly reaches to the side, aiming to grab at the katana. Your hand grabs his wrist to stop him, pinning it against the floor by his head and only realizing too late that he was turning his head to bite you. His sharp teeth break the skin of your forearm, pulling a cry from your lips but not persuading you to let go of him just yet.

“Stop.” You command him through gritted teeth but he only brings his other hand up to send you the middle finger as he bites down harder.

Blood is running down your arm and you can feel yourself growing weaker against his wriggling, your head pounding, cheek stinging and shoulderblade aching. You are reaching your limit and are running out of ideas to hold him back. All except one.

Taking a deep breath, you decide to take the chance, not sure if it would work but seeing no alternative. You bring your other hand up to his horn and, instead of roughly grabbing it like you had previously, you stroke your fingers along the base gently, applying slight pleasure against where it joined his scalp.

The effect was almost instant, his mouth pulling back away from your arm, leaving two rows of bloody pinpoints from his teeth as he inhales sharply. You smirk, your theory confirmed so that you know you can proceed, trailing your fingers lightly up the horn before you let them drift down again, pushing into his black hair.

He whips his head round to face you, eyes wide with alarm and his mouth falling open as he stutters for words to say,

“W-what in the flying fuck do you think you are _doing?!_ ” He hisses, cheeks flushing red and you know it isn’t completely due to anger.

“You aren’t the only one who refuses to play fair,” You say, raising your eyebrows as you lean down close to him, “You forget that I know your weakness. All those times you talked to me and made it so clear as day; you never once thought that I would be able to use it against you, did you?”

He swallows nervously, red irises flickering frantically over your face as his cheeks grow darker still, the red spirals barely noticeable against the blush now.

“I don’t know what the fuck you are going on about.” His voice is slightly strained, his lips curling back to display bloodstained teeth in a snarl.

“You don’t?” You send him a slightly surprised expression, knowing that you had him exactly where you wanted him. Because he wasn’t squirming beneath you anymore and his free hand was making no attempt to push you away despite how close your face now was to his own. Just like when he had held the blade to your throat, you now had complete control over him this time.

You shrug your shoulders, ignoring the stab of pain before you send him a smirk, “Well, then I guess I will have to demonstrate it to you.”

You dip your head lower, lips moving close to his cheek as you let out a long hot breath against his skin, the hand in his hair tangling itself deeper in the dark strands. He flinches away from you, a small squeak betraying him before he pushes his lips together in a reluctant frown. You smile to yourself at how easy it all was. You barely had to do a thing and he was embarrassed beyond belief, the heat coming from his cheeks providing enough evidence.

“Stop that… stop right now, it’s _obscene._ ” He hisses and you have to stop yourself from laughing at how ridiculous he is being. Because you were barely even touching him.

“Obscene? But I’ve only just begun…” You make your voice low, speaking right into his ear before tilting your head to the side and pushing your lips against the gray skin of his jawline lightly. His breath hitches, body jolting slightly in surprise beneath you. But you refuse to stop, trailing small kisses up his jaw to his chin before you pull back to observe his reaction.

He’s used his free hand to grab at the front of your shirt tightly, initially intending to push you away but now using his grip to hold you close. His breathing is heavy, eyes wide as they stare up at you incredulously from between dark lashes.

“Fuck you. You are filthy, positively disgusting with your actions.”

“I don’t see you trying to stop my ‘filthy’ actions, uu. In fact, that’s a pretty tight grip you have on my shirt there, man.” You tip your head in the direction of his hand and, oh wow, you hadn’t thought it was possible for him to blush any redder but apparently it was.

“Shut up! I’m going to fucking kill you, you nasty, filthy piece of shit. I’ll spill your blood all over this floor.” He tightens his grip on your shirt, his wrist pushing up against your hand pinning it down.

“I love it when you talk dirty.” You say, tone serious but unable to hide the implied joke before you lean down close again, “And you seem to have a strange obsession with my blood… If it’s any consolation, I like _your_ blood too.” And then you stick out your tongue to slowly lick at the drying blood beneath his nose, running over his top lip as you do so.

You expect him to at least flinch away, embarrassed, or, at the most, throw you a hit to the face for your boldness. You _don’t_ expect him to moan in the way that he does, his lips parting slightly against your tongue as his eyelids flicker shut. The sound is low and needy and obviously produced with regret on uu’s part, but you can’t deny that it’s actually kinda _hot._

You pull back and his eyes snap back open, full of so much equal hate and lust it makes your breath catch in your throat slightly. His mouth his moving to form words but none are coming out and the fact that he’s beyond flustered and offended just fuels you on to want more. You dip your head again, holding your lips teasingly close to his own before you look up.

From this angle you are able to look at him from over the top of your shades, meeting his red lined pupils with your own orange for the first time without a barrier of dark glass. You’re close enough to feel the sudden inhale he makes at the eye contact, his grip on your shirt loosening slightly in surprise.

It’s at this point that you push your lips against his gently, tasting blood as you suck lightly on his lower lip. He’s unresponsive at first, his whole body tensing up with distress. But then you hear the smallest of noises escape from his mouth and he clumsily starts to kiss you back.

He’s tentative with his movements, as though scared or unsure what to do, and a quick glance upwards confirms that he was squeezing his eyes tightly shut as though he was trying to block it all out. Deny it was even happening.

There was the smallest of flips in your stomach and you suddenly realise that your heart was pounding hard against your chest. You tell yourself that it wasn’t because of the kiss, it wasn’t because of the sweet moan he had made in response or the way his body felt beneath yours. You won’t let yourself admit that you are _enjoying_ this.

But your mouth moves of its own accord, nipping gently at his bottom lip so that he gasps, allowing you entry with your tongue as you run it along the tips of sharp teeth. He starts to squirm slightly, body moving between your legs in a way that has quite the unexpected reaction on you as you feel your blood rush south.

You move to pull back slightly but he surprises you by pushing his head forward to keep the contact, even daring you with the smallest of flicks against your tongue with his own. And you can tell that it takes a lot for him to do that because he immediately shies away when you comply and push back, his lips moving at the same hesitant pace as before.

The grip you hold on his wrist has loosened and you take the opportunity to slide your fingers up, interlacing them with his and squeezing his palm gently in encouragement. After a second or two he follows your lead and curls his own fingers up against your hand in return. The notion is simple, but it’s enough to send him squirming beneath you again.

You break the kiss at the movement, taking a deep breath as you look down at him panting and flustered.

“You _sick fuck_. This is… if someone… you don’t understand…” He says between breaths, his brow furrowing over alarmed eyes as he tries to find the right words to say.

“You want me to stop?” You ask, smirking because you already know the answer. It was written clear as day across his flushed face and in the way his fingers interlocked tightly with your own. He wanted this badly. And, hell, you were beyond denying the fact that you wanted it too.

“I…” He trails off, eyes flickering around the room desperately and you feel the need to add a little _persuasion._

You quickly push your hips downwards against his, causing contact that makes your own breath hitch. You aren’t entirely sure whether trolls are made of the same stuff as you are, but it’s pretty obvious that whatever it was he had down his pants, it liked that sudden pressure you had applied, because his eyes slip closed and his fingers tighten against yours. He moans quietly, body jolting up against yours and you notice a slight sheen of sweat forming on his forehead, hair plastering to the skin in black curls.

It was almost infectious to see him in this state. He was so out of control of his own body, his senses being overloaded all at once and leaving him helpless to every little touch you lay on him. It was enough to make you bite at your lower lip in frustration, wanting to feel the same level of arousal as he did but knowing you needed a lot more than what you had now. You needed some _friction._

You start to slowly grind your hips, the action making him grab at your side with his free hand, his sharp nails digging in through your shirt against your ribcage. You hear a frustrated growl and he’s spitting words at you, “Fuck… fuck you, Strider-“

It seemed only appropriate to break him off with a kiss, your lips showing him no mercy this time as you pull your hand from his hair, resting it on his cheek to hold his face in place. He seems to have a little more fight in him than he did before, his teeth biting at your lower lip before he runs his tongue along it to collect the blood he had produced. The motion causes a low moan to rip from the back of your throat and you can feel how tight your pants are now, each thrust against him sending a wave of pleasure coursing up your body.

He’s also finding it difficult to hide his frustration as you feel his hand on your side move lower until he’s pushed it up under the bottom of your shirt. His fingers drift up over the bare skin of your chest before he digs his fingernails in harshly, running them down across your stomach so that you wince from the pain. Your hips jolt forward in response, another heated sensation racking your whole body against his touch.

You pull your lips away from his and you can’t help but notice that you are both panting, although you hoped that your face wasn’t quite as fiery red as his was.

“Who’s the one being nasty now?” You say breathlessly and he squeezes his eyes shut in denial, no doubt mortified over his own willingness to take part in such actions.

You lean up, placing a gentle kiss in the centre of the red spiral of his cheek in a way that he would only describe as “ _tender_ ”. And he’s so predictable because surely enough his teeth are biting back yet another moan.

It’s sweet to your ears and you pick up the pace on your grinding, growing dangerously close to a finish before you see him grow tense beneath you, mouth falling open and his eyes snapping open. He gasps sharply, grip tightening on your fingers painfully as his body gives the smallest of shudders.

“Oh _fuck_ …” You breathe out, because in that last second he had pushed his hips back up against yours and it was just enough to send you tipping over the edge, a loud moan ripping from your mouth as you released into your boxers.

You slow your grinding as you feel the orgasm ebb away, leaving you feeling a little uncomfortable in the pants department but otherwise in nothing short of ecstasy. Your heart was still pounding fast and your body was aching and stinging all over, leaving you exhausted as you half collapse on top of him, face pushed against the coarse green fabric of his suit.

He’s breathing heavily, his fingers loosening their grip on yours to move and cover his mouth in shock.

“You… you’re _disgusting._ I’ve never experienced anything so filthy in my entire life…” He says, words muffled from behind his fingers as you tip your head up to look at him.

“Stop pretending like you didn’t enjoy it. You’re just as sick as I am.” You say, smirking as he starts to shake his head in denial. You shift upwards a bit, grabbing at the base of his horns to stop the shaking and his eyes snap onto yours. He’s confused and distressed, but his eyes are softer than they had been when you had first seen him, black pupils wide against the bright red. A moment passes before he moves his hand from his mouth, instead wrapping it hesitantly around the back of your neck.

A frown pulls his lips down, gaze taking on a look of steely determination which seems almost like a dare to you. And you never passed up a dare as appealing as this.

You close the distance between your lips and, you aren’t sure whether it’s because he’s learning to accept it, or whether practice has made him bolder, but he instantly starts kissing you back this time. His tongue runs along your top lip as he pushes the hand on your neck upwards into your blonde hair, grabbing at it tightly.

You reign in his kiss with a series of small light kisses teasing against his lips before you sigh heavily, “Does this mean I win your game?”

He looks away, chewing at his bottom lip in conflict before sending you a scowl, “Fine. You win this round at least… But don’t think I won’t kill you next time, Dirk Strider. _I’ll kill you._ ” He snarls, tightening his grip painfully on your hair to make his point clear.

Except all you can do is roll your eyes, head tipping down to hit his shoulder as you hold back a small laugh. Because you have no doubt that he would try to kill you again. He was definitely crazy enough to attempt it and there was no denying it.

But for now it didn’t matter. Because, for this round at least, you had _won._


End file.
